Moods

I'm having some poor me moments, actually more than moments. I feel like I'm in a bad Russian novel. I'm poor pitiful Pearl, I'm my mother's favorite Christmas story, The Little Matchgirl. Yes, that's right. Her favorite Christmas story was The Little Matchgirl. She loved it when all the kids would cry because that reminded her of her childhood when her father told that story. At least that's the story she told. She would laugh then at the shock of whoever she was telling her story to. That's the way she was. Sound odd to you? Well tough.

That's the way I think we were raised. Tough it out. I think I told you that was the advice my uncle gave me at my mother's wake. Suck it up! No tears! Somehow it's not good to show weakness, ever. Go home alone and deal with it. That's the message we all got from every adult in our vicinity. How then did I cultivate this poor me stuff. I dwell on the how's and why's and never go far. I'm back with the victim crap. I guess I'm looking for someone to help - this most often means someone to do it for me. Sometimes it works and sometimes not. Most often what the poor me stuff brings is aloneness. No one I know will deal with this self pity stuff for more than 10 seconds.

Here I am. Alone.

Okay. I've had enough of this. Life is good and the weather is perfect today. High 40's in February is perfect. I am going to take a walk and shake off this nonsense. I will dive into the comfort of Psalms and ponder the fate of David. Now there was a guy. Talk about a roller coaster of a life. I'll be back and I'll be happy.

Love Ya!